


Audience Participation

by fuzipenguin



Series: Love is Still Love [3]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Asexual Character, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, Fluff, M/M, Other, Pansexual Character, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:45:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8789497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Sideswipe has taught Sunstreaker a lot; he's always been a quick study.





	

                Sunstreaker is so absorbed in his article about mixed charcoal painting that he doesn’t even register Sideswipe is humping him until a soft moan breaks through Sunstreaker’s reverie. Then he blinks in surprise and looks down to his left to see Sideswipe snuggled up against him. His leg is thrown over Sunstreaker’s, and his pelvis is rhythmically grinding a warmed interface panel against the side of Sunstreaker’s knee.

                Rolling his optics, Sunstreaker drops a hand atop Sideswipe’s helm, watching his brother blindly turn into the touch. Sideswipe’s expression becomes blissful as he nuzzles into Sunstreaker’s palm.

                “Sideswipe. Sides,” Sunstreaker calls, stroking a thumb down his twin’s cheek. He enforces the words with a gentle nudge across their bond. “Wake up.”

                Sideswipe makes a quiet protesting noise, nasal ridge wrinkling just like a pouting sparkling. Chuckling quietly, Sunstreaker sends his twin another pulse.  

                “Come on, Sides, wake up. It’s better here, I promise.”

                “Mmm… dunno. Good dream,” Sideswipe murmurs, body stretching in one sinuous movement. Hips still gently rolling, Sideswipe slits his optic shutters and blearily stares up at Sunstreaker.

                “What were you dreaming about?” Sunstreaker inquires, although he has a good idea. Despite the recent increase in physical relations between them, his overclocked brother still routinely comes out of sleep charged up and ready to go. And usually plastered against Sunstreaker. He doesn’t mind it the way he used to, but he does wake Sideswipe before things go too far.

                “Gettin’ eaten out,” Sideswipe replies with a sleepy mumble. He slides an arm over Sunstreaker’s waist and cuddles close, nudging Sunstreaker’s datapad out of the way so he can lay his head on Sunstreaker’s chest.

                “… eaten out?” Sunstreaker questions uncertainly. He places the datapad down on the nearby stand. “What’s that?”

                “My valve,” Sideswipe responds with a sharp thrust of his hips. “Licked and sucked on.”

                “Oh.” Sunstreaker tries to imagine it, but doesn’t see the appeal. Of course he doesn’t see the appeal in much of anything sexual. He _has_ gotten quite fond of kisses however, although not in the same way that Sideswipe likes them. “A glossa can’t go very deep, and it’s not very wide. Why would you prefer that over fingers? Or a spike?”

                Sideswipe shivers, nuzzling Sunstreaker’s chest plate. If anything, the interface cover pressed against Sunstreaker’s knee warms further.

                “It’s… it’s not that I _prefer_ it. But it’s hot as the pits. Literally – a mouth is all wet and warm. Mmm…” Sideswipe shudders harder this time. “And fingers and a spike can’t suck. There’s nothing like suction around my node.”

                “Ah.” Sunstreaker can kind of see now how that would interest Sideswipe. His brother really seems to enjoy his valve being played with.  

                “And it’s also… seeing someone kneeling between your legs, entire focus on your ‘facing bits… oh _frag_ …” Sideswipe moans, fingers tightening on Sunstreaker’s side plating. “Sunny… I gotta take care of this or I’m gonna die… should I go?”

                “You’re not going to die,” Sunstreaker huffs, rolling his optics again. He only has to think about it for a split second. “Come here.”

                He tugs on Sideswipe’s shoulder and his twin bolts upright, optics wide in shock. “What?!”

                “I’m not going to do… that,” Sunstreaker says with a quick shake of his head. Really? Stick his glossa in a valve? Is that even sanitary? “But I can do something else. Lean back against me. Sit here.”

                He spreads his legs and pats the berth between them. Sideswipe promptly flings himself into the space between Sunstreaker’s thighs, rolling over and wriggling his back against Sunstreaker’s chest. He can’t seem to sit still, practically vibrating in excitement which only makes Sunstreaker smile wider.

                Ridiculous. His brother is ridiculous.

                Sideswipe’s helm falls back to naturally rest against Sunstreaker’s shoulder. Sunstreaker’s right arm anchors Sideswipe across the chest, and his free hand rubs circles into his brother’s abdominal plating.

                “Who was eating you out?” Sunstreaker asks, curious. He has a sneaking suspicion he knows the answer to this one too.

                “You. Duh.”

                Sideswipe is quick to drape his legs over Sunstreaker’s spread knees when indicated. This tilts his pelvis up, and Sunstreaker’s hand trails down to cup his brother’s panel. He has to stretch his arm slightly to reach, but it’s quite manageable despite their matching heights.  

                At the touch, Sideswipe’s back arches and he bites his lip, shuddering. “Oh… please... say it?”

                Sunstreaker rolls his optics up at the ceiling. Sideswipe often self-services in Sunstreaker’s presence now. It’s not something Sunstreaker normally takes part in physically, but Sideswipe had asked if Sunstreaker would be willing to occasionally talk to him during these sessions. Apparently his deeper voice ‘does things’ to his twin, especially with certain phrases.

                Pressing his cheek against the side of Sideswipe’s helm, his lips brush against his brother’s sensitive audial as he speaks. “Open up,” Sunstreaker murmurs, deepening his voice even further than normal.  

                Sideswipe trembles like he’s about to fall apart, and his interface cover snaps aside with a loud click. Despite Sunstreaker occasionally feeling silly saying some of the things Sideswipe has asked him to, he can’t deny the effect it has on his brother.

                Sunstreaker dips his hand even lower, Sideswipe’s thighs spreading wider to accommodate it.

                “Just your valve?” Sunstreaker asks, fingers tracing the rim of Sideswipe’s spike housing. It’s closed, but Sunstreaker can feel the heat radiating from his brother’s bared port.

                “Yeah…” Sideswipe says faintly, canting his pelvis back even further. “That ok?”

                “Yes.”

                He’s grateful actually. He doesn’t quite have the coordination for touching both spike and valve at the same time. And he prefers stimulating Sideswipe’s valve over his spike, which surprised both of them. He’s still not a fan of the mess that ends up coating his fingers but Sideswipe is much more vocally appreciative of valve play.

                Sunstreaker’s index finger traces the valve rim, the metalmesh lips puffy with diverted eneron. Sideswipe’s already rather wet and Sunstreaker gathers up some of the escaping lubricant and lightly rubs his brother’s anterior node. It pulses steadily beneath his touch. Before Sideswipe can get too used to that stimulation however, Sunstreaker slides his finger further down.

                Sideswipe gasps as Sunstreaker gently feels for the valve entrance, easily slipping inside. He pauses, marveling as always at the tight clamp of calipers clenching down on his digit.

                “Did I like it?”

                Squirming a little, Sideswipe manages to tilt his head to the side to look at him. “What? You mean eating me out? Pit, no. You kept making the strangest faces. Still the hottest thing ever, though,” Sideswipe reports enthusiastically.

                Sunstreaker furrows his orbital ridges. Sideswipe has always dreamt exclusively of the two of them together. When they were younger, the dream-Sunstreaker had always been a nebulous concept for Sideswipe. He hadn’t even really been able to picture Sunstreaker. Which made sense considering Sideswipe hadn’t had any experiences of them together to draw off of. But now his dreams portray a much more realistic Sunstreaker, one who participates in sexual acts either awkwardly or with some sort of protest.

                Sideswipe inexplicably finds these dreams more arousing than the other ones. Sunstreaker doesn’t understand it; he wouldn’t think himself making faces during such an intimate act would be exciting, but then again Sideswipe is Sideswipe.

                Internally shrugging it off, Sunstreaker withdraws his finger in favor of circling the node that he can see just barely blinking fitfully from here. Lubricant makes the motion smooth and easy, and he considers what Sideswipe had said earlier. Hesitantly, he shifts his hand and very lightly pinches the nub between his thumb and forefinger.

                “This is kind of like sucking,” Sunstreaker offers, carefully swiveling his hand back and forth while pulling upwards.

                His brother makes a strangled noise, his hands flying up to latch onto Sunstreaker’s anchoring arm. “Oh my Primus!” he blurts out. “Frag, I love your hands.”

                “Just my hands?” Sunstreaker murmurs against Sideswipe’s audial. His hand continues to gently pluck and pull at Sideswipe’s node, his brother’s hips beginning to dance.

                “Nngh… I love all of you. Everything about you…!” Sideswipe gasps.

                Sunstreaker abruptly plunges the same finger back into Sideswipe’s valve, curling the digit up under the rim and pressing against the line of small nodes Sideswipe had told him were there.

                “Like what?” Sunstreaker asks, smiling when Sideswipe’s pelvis snaps up involuntarily. His pedes dig into the berth coverings, engine revving faster. It’s already nearly at that redline-pitch it gets when Sideswipe’s about to climax. It continually amazes Sunstreaker how quickly Sideswipe moves toward overload when Sunstreaker assists in some way. It’s almost as if Sideswipe is helpless to it.

                “… optics! Your optics!” Sideswipe squeaks. “Frag, who taught you to do that?” he moans when Sunstreaker straightens his finger and starts pumping it in and out of Sideswipe’s valve.

                “You did. And my optics? We have the same optics. So basically you just like looking at yourself,” Sunstreaker points out.

                “Another… give me another, Sunny,” Sideswipe moans in reply, fingers rhythmically tightening on Sunstreaker’s wrist. He doesn’t refute Sunstreaker’s statement; Sunstreaker can’t tell if Sideswipe agrees with it or he’s just too distracted by the pleasure.

                “I will. Tell me something else that you love about me,” Sunstreaker says, snorting in amusement when Sideswipe grinds his denta in frustration.

                “You’re a sadist, you know tha… no, no, no!” Sideswipe babbles, reaching down to try and shove Sunstreaker’s hand back into place as he lifts it and lets it hover over Sideswipe’s groin.

                “All right, all right! Your walk, I love your walk!” Sideswipe exclaims, wriggling desperately when Sunstreaker uses his other hand to capture Sideswipe’s wrist.

                Sunstreaker rewards him by coating another finger in lubricant and carefully slides both into Sideswipe’s valve. Sideswipe sighs in pleasure and sags back against Sunstreaker’s chest, fans clicking on with a whine as his internal temperature begins to spike.

                “My walk, hmm? What do you like about it?” Sunstreaker asks, making a face at the slick noises his fingers are now producing. When his digits are buried in Sideswipe’s valve, Sunstreaker doesn’t mind the coating of lubricant as much. But later, when he withdraws, they’ll be cold and sticky.

                “Your aft and hips…” Sideswipe murmurs, one hand lifting to cup the air in front of him. “They just sway…”

                Sunstreaker buries his face in the top of Sideswipe’s helm, trying not to laugh at the dreamy look Sideswipe is now sporting. Sideswipe doesn’t take offense at much, but even Sunstreaker knows not to make serious fun of his brother in times like these.

                “What else?”

                “Vain fragger,” Sideswipe spits out, jerking his hips up to try and entice Sunstreaker to move faster. “C’mon, Sunny, more!”

                “You started it,” Sunstreaker retorts, withdrawing his hand and stroking over Sideswipe’s rim and node in one firm sweep. “There has to be more than my hands and the wiggle in my walk.”

                “Ohhh, frag…” Sideswipe groans, his optics slipping closed as Sunstreaker starts rubbing his twin’s throbbing nub again. “Your smile… the one you only give me.”

                Sunstreaker tightens his hold on Sideswipe’s chest. They both have smiles that only each other sees. Sometimes Sunstreaker wakes up and catches Sideswipe gazing at him with the tiniest and softest of smiles. It always makes his spark whirl happily, like it’s doing now.

                “That look you get,” Sideswipe continues, beginning to pant, “when you aren’t into stuff like this, but you do it anyway because you know I like it.”

                “I have a look?” Sunstreaker asks guiltily. He hadn’t realized. But of course Sideswipe would notice something like that. He was always checking to make sure Sunstreaker was comfortable.

                Sideswipe lifts a hand and blindly pats at Sunstreaker’s head, nearly taking out an optic. “Yeah. It’s ok, though. It means you love me.”

                “Of course I love you. Idiot.” Sunstreaker kisses the side of Sideswipe’s face, his chassis warming.

                “Mmm… that. When you call me names, but you don’t actually mean it,” Sideswipe adds, reattaching himself to Sunstreaker’s encircling arm. “Hey… can I make a suggestion?”

                Sunstreaker’s hand immediately stops moving. “Am I hurting you?”

                “Pfft. No. You gonna let me touch so I can show you?”

                Sunstreaker laughs, but nods his head. “Yes. Idiot.”

                Squirming happily, Sideswipe reaches down to reposition Sunstreaker’s hand, placing the heel of his palm directly over Sideswipe’s node. His fingers are shakily pressed back into Sideswipe’s valve.

                “Like that. Just…oh…” Sideswipe whimpers when Sunstreaker begins to move. Every withdrawal of his fingers makes him press against Sideswipe’s nub, stimulating it at the same time as the interior.

                “Good?” Sunstreaker murmurs, starting to get a bit warm himself from all the heat his brother is producing.

                “Very,” Sideswipe says faintly. “Keep doing that.”

                So Sunstreaker does. Sideswipe gasps and moans in his arms as a result, his entire body a study in encouragement and yearning.

                And there’s a thought. He’s painted multiple subjects, his twin most of all. But Sunstreaker has never drawn his brother in the throes of an overload. They each have a smile just for each other, but that particular blissful expression Sideswipe gains when self-servicing has yet to be captured. He wonders if Sideswipe would care if he sketched him the next time he stimulated himself.

                Twisting the upper half of his body, Sideswipe affectionately nuzzles up under Sunstreaker’s throat, breaking him out of his thoughts. The nuzzling turns into tiny little kisses which Sunstreaker tolerates until they land on the large energon line in the side of his neck. Then he twitches with a wordless protest.

                “Sorry,” Sideswipe murmurs and shifts to notch his forehelm up under Sunstreaker’s chin. This forces each one of Sideswipe’s hot ex-vents across Sunstreaker’s sensitive collar fairing, but it’s better than the licking. The sides of his neck have always been ticklish.

                “Can I have another?” Sideswipe pleads, hips giving an odd little bounce.

                Sunstreaker stares down the length of Sideswipe’s frame. He can’t see his brother’s valve, but he feels it tight around his fingers, the inner calipers continually clenching and releasing restlessly.

                “Three? I’ve never…”

                Sideswipe chuckles faintly. “Can take it, bro, trust me.”

                Sunstreaker pauses the motion of his hand to thoroughly lubricate his third middle finger. Then he presses the three of them together and gently probes at the valve entrance. There’s a split second of resistance and then the digits sink in.

                Sideswipe shudders from head to pede tip, his legs spreading further. “Yeah… yeah, that’s it.”

                “You normally overload by now,” Sunstreaker points out, surprised when he checks his chronometer. “Am I doing something wrong?”

                Sideswipe violently shakes his head. “Nothing’s wrong. You’re amazing.” His grip on Sunstreaker’s arm tightens when Sunstreaker lightly grinds the heel of his palm against Sideswipe’s node.

                “So amazing… never want it to end,” Sideswipe says, static starting to burr his vocals.

                Slowing down the motion of his hand, Sunstreaker nuzzles the closest audial horn and murmurs against the sensitive tip. “I could always take things back a notch.”

                The next thrust of his hand pushes only one finger inside Sideswipe, and he whines unhappily.

                “Noooo! It can end! It can end!” Sideswipe exclaims. “Sunny, come on!”

                “You’re ridiculous,” Sunstreaker observes and replaces the other two fingers alongside the first. It’s much warmer inside Sideswipe’s valve than out, now that Sunstreaker’s fingers are soaked in lubricant. He can smell it pretty strongly too. It had taken him awhile to realize that interfacing fluids had a certain odor to them, but now he can recognize them faintly on Sideswipe most of the time. They’re only appealing in the fact that they’re an integral part of his twin.

                “Do you want me to continue like this?” Sunstreaker asks quietly. “Or do something else?”

                Sideswipe shifts again, back to his original position. The back of his helm digs into Sunstreaker’s shoulder as Sideswipe arches his back with a moan.

                “Just this… just you,” Sideswipe replies, voice cracking. “Frag, it’s so… so good, Sunny. You don’t… don’t even know.”

                “Can’t say that I do,” Sunstreaker murmurs, but Sideswipe is lost to the pleasure by this point. His hips are snapping up every time Sunstreaker’s fingers thrust in, pelvis rolling to rock Sunstreaker’s palm against the burning hot node that is throbbing near continuously.

                “Oh Primus… primus…” Sideswipe gasps out, entire body slowly winding tighter and tighter. One of his hands whips up to clamp down on Sunstreaker’s nape, both sets of fingers digging in to Sunstreaker’s plating.

                 “You like this?” Sunstreaker purrs, purposely revving his engine. It’s not that Sunstreaker doesn’t love his brother and seeing him happy, but his neck is getting a bit of a crick and he kind of wishes Sideswipe would just overload already.

                 “You like it when my fingers are inside you?” Sunstreaker murmurs. His shoves his fingers as deep as they’ll go, a little more confident now that he realizes Sideswipe had been right in saying he could handle three.

                 A little bit of ‘dirty talk’ is apparently all Sideswipe needs. He freezes, head flung back and mouth open wide. Then his valve calipers clamp down around Sunstreaker’s fingers, squeezing them in arrhythmic patterns. Sideswipe makes a strangled sort of sound and then moans helplessly as a wave of electric charge sweeps outwards from his core and grounds out on the bed. Some of it leaches under Sunstreaker’s own plating and he shivers at the odd tingle to his substructure.

                 It dissipates quickly however, leaving Sideswipe a panting, sated pile of metal in Sunstreaker’s arms. Sideswipe’s grip on Sunstreaker’s neck loosens and then releases completely, his hands landing on the berth with a soft thump.

                 “Oh, my Primus,” Sideswipe groans. “You’re amazing. How did I get so lucky to have you as a twin?”

                 Sunstreaker frowns at the far wall, out of sight of his brother. If Sideswipe had been truly lucky, he’d have a twin who enjoyed these activities in the same way Sideswipe did.

                 “You must have done something right in a past life,” Sunstreaker jokes instead. He moves to draw his hand back and Sideswipe’s thighs press together, lightly trapping Sunstreaker’s arm. Then his legs almost immediately part again.

                 “Stay? Please?” Sideswipe begs, craning his neck to look up at Sunstreaker. “Just for another minute or so. I’ll clean you up, promise.”

                 Sunstreaker reluctantly nods. He supposes his neck can keep for a little while longer. He knows Sideswipe likes the feeling of being full as he’ll often sprawl out after an overload with his valve stuffed by his fingers or a toy. It still unnerves Sunstreaker a little bit to see that; when he participates, it’s usually in a position which doesn’t let him get a close view of his fingers disappearing into Sideswipe’s body.

                 Despite his aversion to seeing it, he doesn’t have any issues with feeling Sideswipe’s valve tight around his fingers. If fact, it still amazes him to feel the port react to his presence. Like now – Sideswipe’s calipers are still twitching randomly in little aftershocks.

                 “Mmm… if you wanna wake me up like this every morning, I won’t complain,” Sideswipe says, nuzzling Sunstreaker’s shoulder. Sideswipe’s engine is purring softly, his entire frame loose and relaxed. Sunstreaker wishes he _were_ capable of giving this to his brother every day.

                 “It would lose some of its shine after a while, wouldn’t it?” Sunstreaker asks, wriggling his fingers a bit, just to feel the valve walls constrict in response.

                 “No, it wouldn’t. Not if it were you. You could do this every day and each time would be like the first,” Sideswipe responds quietly. “Or you could never do it again, and I’d be just fine.”

                 “Sometimes I don’t understand you,” Sunstreaker admits. Sideswipe obviously loves it when Sunstreaker touches him like this. How can he be content with Sunstreaker’s sporadic and clinical participation?

                 “That’s ok. I don’t always get you either. Doesn’t matter. We just have to love each other,” Sideswipe replies easily. And for Sideswipe it _is_ that easy. Sideswipe doesn’t fret about things like Sunstreaker does. He just goes with the flow, something Sunstreaker’s always admired about his brother.

                 Sunstreaker squeezes Sideswipe in a one armed hug and begins easing his hand back. “And I do love you. But… I’d really like to get washed up now.”

                 “K,” Sideswipe says, without even a hint of disappointment. “I actually stocked up on some supplies for you so I’ll always have them with me… they’re ‘round here somewhere,” he says and begins rummaging in his subspace pockets. As he searches, Sunstreaker holds his arm up and out to the side, grimacing as he feels a trickle of lubricant trail down the back of his hand.

                 Sideswipe leverages himself up into a sitting position, muttering to himself as he continues to root in his overstuffed subspace for whatever he’s looking for. Sunstreaker immediately mourns the warmth of his brother’s frame against his; it makes the chill to his fingers that much more noticeable.

                 He gazes at them for a moment. The pinkish sheen of the lubricant gives his natural gold an interesting luster. At least the substance is pretty, despite its tendency to seep down to his very joints.

                 Orbital ridges furrowing, Sunstreaker considers his hand. Sideswipe had said that mecha would lick and suck at each other’s valve. Why would they enjoy that? Surely it couldn’t be for the taste?

                 Hesitantly, he brings his hand up to his mouth and gingerly extends his glossa. It swipes across his index finger, bringing several drops of Sideswipe’s lubricant into his oral cavity. Licking his lips, he considers the sensations his sensors are feeding him about the liquid: warm, metallic, slightly bitter, tingly with what Sunstreaker assumes is leftover charge.

                 It’s not outwardly disgusting, but it’s also not something Sunstreaker would actively seek out.

                 “Ok, found it! Here, give me your…” Sideswipe’s voice breaks into Sunstreaker’s reverie, and he looks up to see Sideswipe twisted around and staring at him.

                 “What…” Sideswipe pauses, his vocalizer resetting with an audible click. “What are you doing?”

                 Sunstreaker becomes somewhat alarmed at Sideswipe’s shocked expression. “You said… it’s not dangerous to consume, right?” Sunstreaker asks, glancing warily at his hand.

                 “No!” Sideswipe rushes to reassure him. He quickly gets to his knees between Sunstreaker’s legs. “Absolutely not. Here, I’ll show you.”

                 He grasps Sunstreaker’s wrist and lowers his head to take Sunstreaker’s finger into his mouth. Sunstreaker watches Sideswipe’s optic shutters flutter as his brother’s glossa lashes the underside of the digit, a light suction drawing the beads of lubricant away from Sunstreaker’s finger.

                 “But that’s your own…” Sunstreaker protests in confusion. Sideswipe lifts his head, licking his lips. He shrugs, picking up a damp cloth up and encompassing Sunstreaker’s hand in it.

                 “Won’t hurt me. Won’t hurt anyone,” Sideswipe reasons.

                 “I don’t understand the appeal,” Sunstreaker complains, his glossa swiping the back of his denta, trying to rid his mouth of the odd taste.

                 “It’s not the lubricant itself. It’s the act of turning another mech on by your mouth or hands and seeing proof of it. At least for me,” Sideswipe explains patiently as he wipes down Sunstreaker’s hand. “It’s just… hot.”   

                 “And it’s hot to see me tasting your lubricant?” Sunstreaker surmises, judging by the ragged thrum of Sideswipe’s engine.

                 Sideswipe grins faintly and gives him a wink. “Yup. Kinda got me going again.”

                 Sunstreaker rolls his optics. “If you’re going to start all over, I’m not taking part this time.”

                 “Don’t worry, I’ll throttle it back. Right now I’d rather snuggle with you. Maybe recharge some more. That ok?”

                 Sunstreaker examines his hand after Sideswipe released it. There are still drying drops of lubricant within the joints that he will have to actually rinse out. The idea of being close to his twin right now is more appealing, however. They may have differing wants and needs regarding interfacing, but both of them are in agreement that cuddles are not to be passed up.

                 “Yes. That’ll be nice.”

                 He scoots across the berth until he is on his back, and Sideswipe tosses the dirty cloth over the side of the berth before diving down besides Sunstreaker. They wind their limbs together with long familiarity, Sideswipe’s groin thankfully wiped down and his interface cover replaced.

                 “Mmm. Thank you,” Sideswipe murmurs, rubbing his nasal ridge against Sunstreaker’s. “That was great, really.”

                 “You’re welcome,” Sunstreaker replies, letting his optics dim and offline. “I wish…”

                 “Shh…” Sideswipe whispers, forestalling Sunstreaker’s automatic apology for the way his body operates. “It was great. But this is even better.”

                 He presses close, their chests lining up and the sparks behind their plating beating in sync. Sunstreaker relaxes and allows himself to go limp.

                 He’s rather proud of himself. Despite his own handicap, he gave his brother pleasure. Sunstreaker definitely doesn’t enjoy the mechanics of it all, but seeing Sideswipe writhe in his arms pleases him in its own way.

                 Sideswipe is right, though. This is far better.

                 Sunstreaker offlines his optics and falls asleep listening to the familiar and comforting hum of the other half of his spark.

 

 ~ End


End file.
